


Numb

by Oliviet



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Season 4 Finale, Season 4 Spoilers, Spoilers, post ep, post-ep, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 14:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliviet/pseuds/Oliviet
Summary: She feels like she hasn’t stopped screaming. Her throat is raw and her body numb from uselessly calling his name into the smoke and debris filled air until her father finally manages to drag her away from the street.





	Numb

She feels like she hasn’t stopped screaming. Her throat is raw and her body numb from uselessly calling his name into the smoke and debris filled air until her father finally manages to drag her away from the street. Away from the remnants of her car. And likely away from the remnants of him.

She’s tired of this. Tired of her best friends dying. No, not just dying, she’s tired of them being murdered. (She should really find a way to put Wallace on house arrest to keep him safe.) She’s tired of the toxicity that seems to seep from this town’s pores, killing or chasing away the people that she cares about.

Why did she come back here? If she had stayed away, tried harder at convincing her dad to move too, actually chose to use her degrees, Logan would have stayed away too. Logan would still be alive. Their marriage would have lasted longer than three hours. The thought makes her physically ill and she stumbles over Keith’s cane to retch into the nearest trash can.

She can feel his hand come to her back, rubbing gently at the tension forming between her shoulder blades. She should let him comfort her, she knows, but she can feel herself ebbing on the verge of anger and she doesn’t want to take it out on him. Her refusal to let the grief set in and overtake her has her itching to punch something until all of the fight drains out of her. She’s eyeing the trash can when she feels Keith pull on her more insistently. Maybe he knows her too well if he can tell she’s this close to getting in a fight with an inanimate object.

“We should get that looked at,” he says softly, gesturing to the cuts on her face from the blowback. She knows they’re there, but barely registers the pain. They’re nothing compared to what else she’s feeling.

“It’s fine,” she mutters, looking over his shoulder at the chaos still swarming outside of her apartment.

She starts back in that direction, but he pulls her back. “You need stitches.”

“They’re not that bad,” she insists, trying again to go back to the scene. She doesn’t know what she plans to do once she’s over there, just knows that she wants to be.

“Are you trying to go back to your apartment or back to the crime scene?”

“Dad, I -” Looking at him breaks her. All of the anger and sadness and grief exploding together when she sees the look of concern in his eyes. Veronica takes a swing at the trash can before collapsing to her knees on the sidewalk, burying her face in her hands. Keith is on the ground with her in seconds, bad hip be damned. He pulls her into his arms and she lets him, tired of trying to fight it.

It’s only when the police give her the okay to re-enter her apartment that she finally moves from the spot on the sidewalk. Ignoring the scrapes on her knees from when she collapsed onto the pavement, another dull, stinging nuisance which barely compares to the invisible vice grip in her chest, she moves back up the street to her home. Keith is right on her heels almost as though he’s ready to catch her, anticipating her legs to give out on her again. They don’t. Not yet.

She asks Keith to wait in the living room while she re-adjusts the contents of the half-packed bag that was meant for their honeymoon. Items that have no purpose for her to crash at her dad’s place for a while need to be removed. There’s no need for the lingerie now. Or the nice perfume Logan bought her several Valentine’s Days ago.

_It’s not the teddy bear you wanted, but I thought we might be a little old for that._

She’s just thankful Pony had already been dropped off at her dad’s house earlier meaning there are less supplies to gather and less time she has to spend here. Because already stepping inside and seeing the life they shared together here, the life they had planned to share together here, hurts like hell.

She stands in the doorway to their bedroom, staring at their half-packed suitcases and the broken glass and debris. The silk and lace teddy she bought a year ago only because of Logan’s enthusiastic insistence spills out over the edge of her bag. His shirts folded neatly in his open suitcase causes her breath to catch in her throat. She wonders if they smell like him, even though she knows they’ll only smell like the same laundry detergent she uses on her own clothes. She knows that from his last deployment. Okay well not the one that only lasted about a week, the one before that. He’d been gone for months and she woke up one night needing him, trying to find solace in his side of the closet. But nothing smelled like him. He’d been gone too long. Everything just smelled like her. Her mind drifts to the Skype call they’d had the following day.

_“Hey babe, how’s life in Neptune?”_

_“I’m buying you a new detergent.”_

_Logan chuckles. “Thrilling stuff. What’s wrong with the old one? Did we run out?”_

_“No, I’m buying_ you _another brand of detergent.”_

_He stares back at her blankly. “Okay?”_

_Veronica rolls her eyes. “Your clothes smell like my clothes.”_

_Now he’s smirking at her. “Is that...too domestic for you?”_

_She sighs, frustrated. “No, that’s not the problem.”_

_His demeanor softens, recognizing even on the grainy Skype call that she’s upset. “What’s wrong?”_

_She shakes her head, stepping out of the frame of the webcam to let Pony back in from outside. When she’s back in front of her computer she puts her elbows on the counter and props her head up on her hands. “I miss you.”_

_“And buying me my own detergent helps with that? I mean let me know if it does, I’ll go and buy some new soap.”_

_“Logan.”_

_“Sorry, sorry, I’ll listen. Explain the detergent.”_

_She sighs again, mindlessly brushing dust off of her keyboard. “I had a weird dream last night and I just...needed you. So I went looking for a shirt of yours hoping it would smell like you, but they all just smelled like my laundry.”_

_“There’s a bottle of my colgone in the medicine cabinet.” She looks up from her keyboard to meet his gaze through the screen. “I know it’s not the same thing as having me home, but it’s easier than doing an extra load of laundry every time.”_

_Veronica nods. “Long distance cussing sucks.”_

_“Cussing sucks?”_

_“My dad and I made a bet,” she shrugs. “I can’t swear.”_

_“Well in that case, I can’t wait to come home and cuss.”_

_She gives him a small smile, rolling her eyes. “Any idea when that will be?”_

_“I don’t, I’m sorry.”_

_She looks back down at her keyboard. “Well, don’t expect to have any cologne left when you get back.”_

_Logan laughs. “Remind me to bring some of your shampoo with me on my next deployment.”_

Veronica steps around the parts of the packing mess which had found a temporary home on the floor, headed for the bathroom. She opens the medicine cabinet and finds the bottle still there, right where she returned it months ago. She moves back to his open suitcase and pulls out one of his button ups, spritzing it with his cologne, before sliding her arms into the sleeves and pulling it tight over her wedding dress. She inhales, staring at their bed and thinking back to the night she finally accepted his proposal. It was just a few days ago, but standing here now it feels so much further away than that.

_“So this whole married thing,” Veronica starts, hooking her right leg between his and propping herself up on her elbows on either side of his chest. “Are you gonna stop leaving me alone for months on end?”_

_“You’re not alone, I leave you with Pony.”_

_She narrows her eyes at him._

_“What do you want me to do? Quit my job? Bring you with me into dangerous situations?”_

_“How is that last part any different than being here?”_

_“Veronica -”_

_“No, I don’t expect you to quit your job,” she sighs, collapsing against his chest. “I just want you to do your job from here.”_

_He runs a hand through her hair, his fingers absentmindedly working through a knot they catch on at the end. “The price of falling in love with a military man,” he sighs._

_“No, I fell in love with a troubled teenage boy, I didn’t sign up for this military business.”_

_Logan laughs, draping his arms across her back. “Meanwhile, I’m still hung up on this same P.I.”_

_She huffs. “God, have I really not changed since high school?”_

_“You’ve matured,” he tells her with a smirk._

_She shakes her head before readjusting her position against him. “Promise me something?”_

_“What?” he asks, skimming his fingertips down her spine. She shifts her weight again so she can look him in the eyes._

_“That we’re not going to try and destroy each other in five years. Or ten years. Or however long. And my dad and I are P.I.’s, if you cheat at least one of us will know.”_

_“You think I’d cheat on you?”_

_“No. But that’s what happens in marriages.”_

_“Not in ours.”_

_He can still see the fear in her eyes. Too many years on the job, too many relationships of friends and family falling apart right in front of her. He gets it, he does, but he needs her to understand something too._

_“Veronica, you and I are going to be that horny old couple sneaking away at Christmas parties to go screw around in the bathroom. Yeah, I know you know the type. That’s us. We’ve already spent our allotted time trying to destroy each other in the past. It’s out of our systems now. We survived.”_

_She seems satisfied by this, curling herself back against his chest. “Is that the epic part?”_

_“Epic part of what?”_

_“You know,” she huffs, pausing when he doesn’t respond right away. “You’re gonna make me say it? Spanning years and continents? Lives ruined? Bloodshed?”_

_“Oh_ that _epic,” he laughs, his chest rumbling against her ear. He kisses the back of her head, wrapping her up in his arms again. “That’s us. Till death do us part.”_

_“Practicing your vows already?”_

_“Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”_

_She hums, tapping a finger against his chest. “I think I’ll be able to manage.”_

Veronica finishes zipping up her suitcase, pulling it behind her as she pauses in the doorway once more. She twists her still new rings around her left ring finger, debating taking them off already and leaving them here. But as she slides them past her first knuckle, the vice grip in her chest seems to tighten, stopping her. She can’t part with them. Not yet. Same goes for his bottle of cologne wrapped up safely in her bag by another one of his button downs.

She simultaneously feels like she can’t leave and she can’t stay. Staying here is nothing but an assault of memories that will likely keep her tucked away in their bed in the dark for days on end. But leaving almost feels like turning her back on them. She doesn’t want to let herself remember, yet she doesn’t want to forget. She’s not strong enough for this. She needs him. She just needs -

“Veronica?”

For a split second her dad’s voice sounds like Logan’s. Which is ridiculous because they’re nowhere close to sounding the same. But it still knocks the wind out of her; the thought of him, of her husband, walking back through the front door unscathed.

Keith appears at the top of the stairs, that same look of concern etched on his face. She’s leaning against the doorframe, her arms wrapped around her torso.

“I know you asked me to wait, but -”

“It’s fine, Dad,” she cuts him off, her eyes drifting to an old wine stain on the carpet.

_Go big or go home right? That’s the only way to celebrate._

“Are you ready? Or do you need some more time?”

“I’ll always need more time,” she mutters, pushing away from the doorframe and reaching for her suitcase again. “Never gonna be ready.”

Keith drapes an arm around her shoulders. “Allow me to take one for the team by saying, this really fucking sucks.”

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of her lips. He just let her win the bet. Small victories and what not. She lets go of her suitcase again to pull him in for a hug.

“It really fucking does.”


End file.
